Ye Olde Staging Point

I love hymns. One of my favorite things about the church I grew up in was (and presumably still is) the prominence that hymn- and psalm-singing held during worship services. As Michele and I visited different churches in search of a "home church," it was an interesting experience to compare the ways that different churches used songs in worship--and the types of music played and sung in different churches.

Most of the churches we visited seemed to strike a reasonable balance between "traditional" songs and "contemporary" ones. While I have no problem with contemporary worship tunes (excepting a handful of particularly vapid ones), I think my preference will always lie with the great old "songs of the faith." For me, what sets many traditional hymns apart from contemporary tunes is the quality of their lyrics. Every time I look at the lyrics to, say, Shine Jesus Shine or The Servant Song, I can't help but wonder if there isn't a classic hymn that conveys the same message more thoughtfully and eloquently. My favorite hymns don't always state things with matter-of-fact directness in the manner of many contemporary praise tunes; they use complex, thoughtful, and occasionally even bizarre word-imagery to make the message vivid. One of my all-time favorite hymns is Charles Wesley's Amazing Love!; I have to quote it in full to really appreciate it:

And can it be that I should gain an interest in the Savior's blood? Died He for me, who caused His pain? For me, who Him to death pursued? Amazing love! How can it be that Thou, my God, should die for me?

Amazing love! How can it be that Thou, my God, should die for me?

He left His Father's throne above; so free, so infinite His grace!
Emptied Himself of all but love, and bled for Adam's helpless race!
'Tis mercy all, immense and free,
for, O my God, it found out me.

Long my imprisoned spirit lay fast-bound in sin and nature's night.
Thine eye diffused a quickening ray; I woke--the dungeon flamed with light!
My chains fell off, my heart was free!
I rose, went forth, and followed Thee!

No condemnation now I dread. Jesus, and all in Him, is mine!
Alive in Him, my living Head, and clothed in righteousness divine,
Bold I approach the eternal throne,
And claim the crown, through Christ my own.

Simply glorious! The third verse is my favorite, containing as it does what must be the best phrase ever penned in the English language: Thine eye diffused a quickening ray. Who would ever write such a wonderful line today? And who can help feeling almost dizzy with joy at the song's triumphant final lines?

Another favorite of mine, and one I haven't heard in many churches lately, is the somber God, Be Merciful To Me--one of the most powerful songs of repentance I have ever heard; my favorite verses are these:

God, be merciful to me, On Thy grace I rest my plea; Plenteous in compassion Thou, Blot out my transgressions now; Wash me, make me pure within, Cleanse, O cleanse me from my sin.

My transgressions I confess,
Grief and guilt my soul oppress;
I have sinned against Thy grace
And provoked Thee to Thy face;
I confess Thy judgment just,
Speechless, I Thy mercy trust.

Broken, humbled to the dust
By Thy wrath and judgment just,
Let my contrite heart rejoice
And in gladness hear Thy voice;
From my sins O hide Thy face,
Blot them out in boundless grace.

From time to time, of course, you run across hymns that do make you wonder what the author was thinking--some of them contain absolutely bizarre imagery. For instance, I find it hard to believe that anyone would actually write, let along sing, a song with a title like There is a Fountain Filled With Blood--what a thoroughly unpleasant metaphor. My personal "favorite" is the following hymn, which I swear to you we actually sang from time to time at church when I was growing up:

Dust to dust, the mortal dies, Both the foolish and the wise; None forever can remain, Each must leave his hoarded gain. Yet within their heart they say That their houses are for aye, That their dwelling places grand Shall for generations stand.

To their lands they give their name
In the hope of lasting fame,
But man’s honor quickly flies,
Like the lowly beast he dies.
Though such folly mark their way,
Men approve of what they say;
Death their shepherd, they the sheep,
He within his fold will keep.

Though in life he wealth attained,
Though the praise of men he gained,
He shall join those gone before,
Where the light shall shine no more.
Crowned with honor though he be,
Highly gifted, strong and free,
If he be not truly wise,
Man is like the beast that dies.

My mom and I have a running joke that this song ought to be set to the tune of Joy to the World for full effect. I'll grant that the message is Biblical, but what sort of person comes across the incredibly depressing words of Psalm 49 and decides that they must be put to music? Probably the same person who came up with singing a song about blood-filled fountains.

Still, I'll hold that even Dust to Dust, the Mortal Dies has more lyrical style than, say, "Our God is an awesome God."

To each his own, I suppose. Sing on!

Posted by Andy at 1:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Here's another good piece on literary theory, this one discussing how Marxism (among other systems) is falling from favor in some academic circles.

This article prompted me to bring up the topic of Marxist theory at lunch with Michele, and we had a great discussion. I wish I could transcribe it all for you, but here's the Cliff Notes version:

Andy: Marxism is a failure, and is a worthless system with which to understand history or anything else.

Michele: Your first statement is pretty much true, but your second betrays a lack of understanding of what Marxist theory really is.

I should've known better than to discuss this with somebody who actually knows what they're talking about. Anyway, interesting article.

Posted by Andy at 1:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

OK, this news is just too good to keep to myself: two new Axis and Allies games are coming out this year. One is a moderate revision to the original game, and the other is a D-Day-specific variant.

Normally I'd be worried that new editions would fall short of the original's quality, but they've got an excellent track record for A&A "expansions"--A&A Europe and Pacific a few years back were great games (I sometimes think I might even prefer Europe to the original A&A).

I've loved this game ever since Bill first introduced me to it way back in elementary school; I've always considered it a masterpiece of game balance and playability. This'll be a great excuse to go out and pick up a fresh copy; my current copy was inadvertently left in my car trunk over a few subzero Michigan winter nights, which caused the game board to warp rather distressingly. Currently, when you build naval units off the British coast on my gameboard, they all slide into the middle of the Atlantic.

Posted by Andy at 1:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

It's been pretty quiet on the posting front here lately (fortunately, Michele has been more than making up for it with a slew of excellent posts).

It's been a good January thus far. Michele and I visited with a lot of friends over the Christmas/New Year's stretch, which was a wonderful way to spend the holiday. As Michele has noted, we played an unusually large number of games--numerous Settlers of Catan matches and also a number of Magic: the Gathering duels. My Christmas stocking contained, amidst other assorted miscellanea like the Annual Rau Christmas Pickle (a story for another day), a couple Magic packs; that was all it took to get me to dust off my Magic collection and sit down to build a few decks. I'd forgotten how fun and strategic that game can be. After re-learning the rules, I roped Michele and our friend Steve into numerous matches, which everyone seemed to enjoy. We also met for a truly epic, incredibly fun 9-hour D&D session run by yours truly--I haven't played in a marathan roleplaying session like that since high school, when I had way too much free time. It was exhausting; by the end of the session, my voice had gone hoarse from all the talking I'd done. The experience prompted many fond memories of entire weekends spent in the basement huddled with my California friends around battlemaps, dungeon-master screens, crumpled character sheets, Mountain Dews, and dog-eared gaming rulebooks.

Since then, our January has more or less normalized. Michele is plugging faithfully away at her studies, and I'm doing some freelance editing work for a roleplaying company; the latter is at least partly responsible for the dearth of posts here lately. It's incredibly fun work and I hope to continue with it.

So that's what I've been up to. Hopefully I'll be getting back into the swing of blogging. And if not, you can expect another where-have-I-been post in, say, two or three weeks...

Posted by Andy at 12:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

You'd think that the wonders of computer imagery and animation, with their ability to create from scratch science-fiction vistas far more extravagant than anything that occurs in the natural world, would tend to blunt one's awe at images like this scene from Mars. When you've seen hundreds of bizarre, imaginary science fiction worlds played out across the silver screen, how could a simple rock-strewn desert landscape hope to compete? But I was surprised to find myself stunned by the Mars images we're receiving. They're just beautiful.

George Lucas can continue showing us around the confines of his elaborate imaginary galaxies, but nothing that he (or anyone else) will ever produce can match the simple grandeur of the universe that surrounds us every moment of our lives.

Posted by Andy at 1:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

OK, so we all have our little personal pet peeves--the things that drive us crazy but don't seem to bother anyone else. One of mine is being forced to participate in the following little drama, played out every Sunday morning in countless churches around the world:

Scene: a church on Sunday morning. The music prelude ends and the worship leader/pastor/whoever steps up to the front grinning fiendishly.

Worship leader: Good morning!

Congregation: Good morning!

Worship leader (adopting a scolding tone and a smug grin): Oh, come on! What was that? I know you can do better than that! Let's try it again! Good morning!

Congregation: GOOD MORNING!

This scene is on some rare occasions made even worse when the worship leader decides that the congregation's lack of enthusiasm can be cured by telling everyone to try it again, but standing up this time.

Maybe this little ritual is a helpful way for some people to wake up in the mornings. It unfortunately makes me want to start punching things, which is rarely a good way to get in the mood for a worship service. I'm at church so I can worship, not so I can have my enthusiasm and attentiveness levels judged and found wanting by some well-intentioned volunteer.

I suppose if this is the sort of annoyance I spend my time worrying about, I've got it pretty good. But what's a blog for, if not for airing petty gripes?

Posted by Andy at 1:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I'm in a link-dispensing mood lately, it seems. Here's a cool article discussing the question of who would win in a European knight vs. Japanese samurai deathmatch. Admit it--you've often wondered. (Link first spotted over at Joshua Claybourn's blog.)

Posted by Andy at 12:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Very interesting article on literary criticism. (I spotted it over at Slashdot.) Well worth the read.

Posted by Andy at 12:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

This thread made me laugh.

Posted by Andy at 7:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Yesterday, I watched the director's cut of Das Boot. I'd seen bits and pieces of the film before, and had read about half of the book many years back, but had never sat down to experience it straight through. If you haven't seen it, it's the story of a German U-boat and its crew during the Second World War, just as the tide is turning against the Germans in the Atlantic.

Note: spoilers follow.

It was an excellent film. More notably for me, it was an exhausting film to watch. It's rare that a movie is able to take you through so many emotional highs and lows in just a few short hours. The film definitely earns itself a place on any list of great war stories.

War tales use different storytelling techniques to communicate their messages--some are subtle, others blatant. In Das Boot, I understood one of the main themes to be that in war, the costs almost always outweigh the triumphs. Throughout the film, the crew of the U-96 accomplishes great feats and achieves many victories--personal and tactical--but in every case, a subsequent realization, loss, or consequence renders the triumph utterly hollow and devoid of meaning.

This can be seen on many different levels. In one early triumph, the U-96 ambushes a convoy and manages to bring down a massive tanker--but within seconds of their victory, they come under a relentless, extended depth-charge attack that nearly destroys their vessel. The captain tries to encourage the crew by reminding them of their "kill"--but by that time, their silence and numb facial expressions make it clear that they would have gladly forgone that triumph in exchange for a reprieve from the Allied navy's retaliation.

Personal victories, no matter how small, are similarly dashed to pieces on a regular basis. We, the audience, feel a surge of happiness when one crewmember is given an opportunity to head home to be with his deathly-ill wife--and we feel crushed when we learn that orders from "on high" have killed that chance. Later, the U-96 surfaces to finish off a damaged Allied tanker--but the crew's shouts of victory turn quickly to sobs of horror when they realize that they've just sunk a completely helpless ship still full of not-yet-rescued crewmen.

The ultimate and most powerful hollow victory comes at the close of the film, when the U-96's crew performs absolutely unbelievable feats of courage and self-sacrifice to save the ship. After suffering through so much and managing to rise above the absolute worst that nature and the enemy could visit upon them--at the very moment of their triumphant homecoming, at the moment when it seems that all of their sacrifices might somehow be justified... at that moment, almost all of them die suddenly and brutally at the hands of a cruel deus ex machina that threatens to render meaningless every single noble deed they'd managed to accomplish on their hellish voyage home.

Like All Quiet on the Western Front, it forces us to abandon ideological myths about war and come face to face with its reality. Highly recommended.

Posted by Andy at 1:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)